


MadaSaku - RPM

by moor



Series: Smut Monday [17]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fast Cars, Modern AU, NSFW, Re-upload, Smut Monday, Sugar Daddy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Uchiha Sasuke's uncle, Madara, ensures that Sakura gets home safe. Eventually.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara
Series: Smut Monday [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/423430
Comments: 11
Kudos: 178





	MadaSaku - RPM

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This story was originally posted around April 2016 for a 'Smut Monday' event on Tumblr. At some point, it was removed from AO3. I'm putting it back up again for those who missed it.

The noise from the party downstairs cut through the polite conversation at the Uchihas’ front door as Mikoto walked her younger brother to the door.

She sighed and shook her head with a small smile as Madara smirked. 

“They’re active tonight,” he remarked. “I thought they were supposed to quiet down when they got older.”

Mikoto gave him a wry grin. “Hypocrite.”

His eyes shone with mirth. Few teased him these days, outside of Izuna and Mikoto. It was a privilege he allowed them and only them.

“Twenty-four was it this time?” He asked, slipping on his shoes as Mikoto opened the closet to collect his coat.

“Twenty-five,” she sighed. “And he still lives here.” Her shoulders slumped.

Madara slid his slippers into the cubby that was labelled with his name, chuckling under his breath. “There’s a sure-fire way to get rid of him, you know. You need to leave the door open one night, while you and Fugaku are—"

There came a sudden scream from downstairs, then meaty thud to the floor before the music sputtered out and others began shouting.

Earth-shattering stomping pounded up the stairs as Mikoto and Madara turned in the direction of the ruckus.

“Sakura, it was—he didn’t mean it—he could have been joking!” Sasuke’s voice carried up the stairs, just as Sakura burst out of the door from the basement where he’d been holding his twenty-fifth birthday party.

“As if he didn’t mean to just accidentally admit he was cheating on me?! He’s lucky I didn’t hit him twice, that rat-bas—Good evening, Mikoto,” said Sakura, pulling up with a guilty flush. Her hair was mussed and her eyes burned brightly with anger, however she composed herself quickly. Straightening up and bowing politely to Sasuke’s mother, she reached into the still-open closet for her cardigan and shoes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just on my way out.” 

“You didn’t bring a car,” pointed out Sasuke. “Give me a few minutes to calm everyone down and I’ll take you home.”

“Calm everyone down? After what he just said?” Snapped Sakura, heat rising in her cheeks once more. She swallowed. “I’ll walk.”

“It’s eleven-thirty,” said Sasuke.

Madara observed their volleying another moment or so before he pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m happy to drive her home.”

Sasuke’s head twisted almost violently, as if only now noticing his uncle.

“No,” said Sasuke.

“Ah,” said Mikoto, looking between them all. “Perhaps I could call for a taxi? I am happy to cover any cost…”

Sakura, however, looked Madara up and down. “Are you heading towards east Konoha?” She asked.

He nodded. “Yes,” he lied.

“Suits me,” she said, buckling her dainty sandals.

“Wait, no, I’ll go get my car, I’ll take you right away—” insisted Sasuke as he looked at his uncle with widening eyes.

Madara smirked at him and offered his elbow to Sakura.

“Ladies first,” he said, opening the door for Sakura.

“Thank you,” she replied, ignoring Sasuke.

“My name is Madara, I am Mikoto’s younger brother,” he said, closing the front door behind them.

“Ah, I knew I’d seen you before…”

Sakura’s voice trailed off as the pair made their way down the drive to Madara’s McLaren.

* * *

In the spacious, marble-tiled foyer, Sasuke turned to his mother who bit her lip.

“He will take her home?” He asked her, his brows furrowed.

Mikoto nodded, releasing her lip and giving him a forced smile.

“Directly?” He asked, his tone uncertain.

Mikoto winced.

Sasuke grumbled under his breath.

“I thought he was seeing someone!”

“He was!” Said Mikoto, her head tipping to the side. “It didn’t work out.”

Sasuke glared at his mother.

Letting out a huff, she pointed down the stairs at his party. “You have guests. See to them. Sakura isn’t going to put up with any shenanigans, and Madara may have a strong personality but he would never force a woman.”

“He’s a manipulator, he doesn’t need to force them,” said Sasuke. 

“And Sakura will see straight through it,” said Mikoto, hand on her hip. “That young woman’s been around our family enough not to put up with any shite.”

Sasuke startled at his mother’s language.

Mikoto’s brow arched. “Go finish your party and get to bed. You have an entire basement to clean tomorrow,” she sighed, turning away and heading to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Or scotch.

“... that I’ll be cleaning?” Asked Sasuke into the abyss. 

* * *

Meanwhile, in the McLaren’s cockpit...

“This car isn’t designed for comfort, is it?” Remarked Sakura, wiggling in her seat for the fourth time in under two minutes.

“Are luxury hypercars ever?” Asked Madara.

Sakura looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Does it even have A/C?”

Madara frowned at her. And patted his dashboard in consolation. “She doesn’t mean it,” he said.

“Left at the next light,” said Sakura. She fished around in her purse. “Does this thing run on premium? Or something fancier?” 

“Hn?”

“I’m trying to figure out how much to leave you in gas money for driving me home,” she explained, finding her wallet and pulling it out. 

Madara narrowed his eyes. “You will not be paying for anything.”

“Oh c’mon, you’re hardly doing this for fun. Look, just dump me at the nearest bus station. I’ll take it to the subway and be home faster than you could drive me, anyway. Here’s ten dollars for gas. This boat is probably a guzzler anyway.”

Madara’s lips pressed together. “You find my driving to be slow?” He asked, enunciating each word carefully.

Sakura looked at him and let her shoulders sag. “I’m sorry. I’m in a bad mood because of… what happened earlier, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I didn’t mean to insult your car. Or your driving,” she sighed, propping her elbow up on the window ledge and staring at the night sky beyond. “Just ignore me. Oh, you missed the left turn. You can take the next one and then double back a bit…”

Sakura glanced at Madara, who kept one eye on her and one on the road.

“You find my driving to be slow?” He repeated.

“I apologized,” said Sakura after a moment. They drove on, and Sakura sighed. He had missed several opportunities to turn back to make the cross-town trek. She must have really ticked him off.

Then he tapped the indicator and they were taking the next exit on the right, to the highway on-ramp. Sakura’s hands tightened in her lap.

“Do you enjoy driving fast, Sakura?” His smooth, low voice cut across the divide between them. There was something dangerous to his tone, and compelled, Sakura cocked her head at Madara, who now focused on the road.

“Perhaps,” she said, a small smile curling the corner of her lips. “I mean, unless you got this car to compensate for something.”

At that his smirk reappeared. “There is nothing to compensate for, merely… complement.”

The car gave a hungry growl as Madara tapped the paddle on the steering wheel. Immediately the car responded, dropping down a gear as he pressed the accelerator; the g-force pushed Sakura snugly back into her handstitched leather seat.

She let out a small gasp as the vibrations in the car purred louder.

* * *

“How many horsepower is this again?” Asked Sakura as Madara took a particularly vicious curve with ease. Lights in the distance spun as Madara hurled the car around a closed course track. On their way through the main gates he’d flashed a key card; a light had switched green and the gates had opened at his command, closing shut behind them. He had stepped out for only a moment to turn on the outdoor lights, illuminating the ghost track for them.

And then he’d torn loose.

“About nine hundred and three,” he said easily.

Sakura gripped the seat, her nails digging into the leather.

“The chassis weighs less than a grown man,” he said casually.

“It costs more than a house, doesn’t it?” Said Sakura, and Madara chuckled darkly. 

“More than several,” he replied.

They spent another half an hour tearing through the tread on Madara’s no doubt ridiculously expensive tires before he pulled to the side and looked at Sakura.

“What?” She asked him, suspicious of his sudden docile nature.

“Would you like a turn?”

Sakura’s eyes widened.

“What?”

Madara leaned back, his elbow resting on the now-open window, propping up his head. “Would you like a turn behind the wheel?”

“I would kill us.”

He lips quirked into a smirk again. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You’re messed in the head. This car’s so light the wind would pick it up the minute I made a wrong move,” said Sakura, shaking her head.

“The air flowing over it pushes it down, improving its traction and grip,” said Madara. He held her gaze. “And how much fun would it be to hold over your ex’s head that you got to race a McLaren P1 when he drove a… what was it?”

Sakura’s hackles rose. “A Toyota. His mom’s old Prius,” she ground out between her teeth. 

“Hn,” purred Madara, raising a brow. “Climb over and you can sit in my lap. I’ll help you learn the paddle gears,” he said, crooking a finger at her.

“This is a bad idea,” said Sakura, already unbuckling her belt.

“Hn,” agreed Madara, his eyes dancing. Sakura reached across him and let herself down carefully between Madara’s legs. “It really is.”

He buckled them both in, and with a nudge, guided Sakura as they turned back onto the track.

“Easy,” he chuckled as the car jerked forward several times. He wrapped his arms around her and steadied her hands on the wheel. “That’s the way,” he murmured against her ear, his minty breath ghosting across her cheek.

Against her will, Sakura blushed as he pressed his chest against her back. She could feel his slow, even heartbeat through her thin sundress and cardigan. With his broad shoulders and strong arms he surrounded her in his warmth and scent. 

“Have you been racing long?” She asked, guiding them along the track, granted at a much slower, saner pace.

“More throttle,” he said, nudging the outside of her thigh with his knee. “And yes. Since I was a teenager.”

“Why?” She asked, taking them through a corner too narrowly. 

“Open up, use the whole track. You have lots of space,” he said, running his hands down her arms; goosebumps rose on Sakura’s sensitive skin. “I enjoy testing limits,” he said against her ear again.

“Pushing limits, more like,” answered Sakura as her heart raced with adrenaline and something more. Unconsciously she arched her back into Madara and firmed her grip on the wheel, pressing down on the accelerator more aggressively. “We’re taking this corner harder this time.”

She felt his smirk against the shell of her ear. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, trailing his hands up her arms to settle around her middle where his fingers squeezed her gently. “Ride it.”

Enjoying the thrill of the man behind her egging her on, and her control over the exotic car, Sakura pressed her foot down; they leapt forward with a growl. As she pulled through the corner, using ‘all the track’ as Madara had shown her, she laughed and bounced in her seat; and swallowed as she felt him pressing into her, hot and hard.

He chuckled. “Finally noticed?”

Sakura’s hands gripped the wheel tighter as she felt Madara lean over her shoulder to kiss her neck, laving attention with his smooth lips and talented tongue. Her stomach curled with the adrenaline and arousal that flooded her. His hands gripped her sides, massaging her before pulling her hips back firmly against his own as he ground into her backside.

“Drive,” he growled against her throat.

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you can. You’re a beautiful, brilliant woman,” he murmured as he kissed along her jaw. His hands rubbed her hips, dragging the thin material of her dress higher and higher until Sakura’s muscled thighs were visible if she were to look down. “Keep going, Sakura. See if you can get us back to the entrance,” he said, as his palms smoothed down the outside of her thighs, and then trailed back up along the inside, barely skirting the lace trim of her panties; Sakura’s legs trembled under his touch.

“What do I get if I make it back?” She asked, her voice breathy.

Closing his inky eyes, Madara nosed aside her long, silky hair and placed an open-mouthed kiss against the top vertebrae of her spine. “Your reward,” he murmured, pulling away. He rubbed at the sensitive junction between her body and inner thighs. 

Sakura swallowed a gasp of pleasure.

And then she pressed her foot down harder, the car surging forward in response. 

“Yes,” growled Madara, pressing up into Sakura as they raced to the finish. His head dropped onto her shoulder as he brought her pelvis back to his and rocked into her with renewed rhythm and fervour. “That’s it, keep going.”

The McLaren wobbled as he spread his fingers down Sakura’s inner thighs, brushing against her warm panties. Sakura bit her lip as she leaned forward, instinctively widening her legs. The car shuddered as Madara teased the edges of her underwear.

“Easy,” he murmured in a sinful voice; Sakura felt herself seeping at the sound and warmth rose into her cheeks. “Remember, smooth hands,” he said, reaching up to steady her hands once more. “That’s it, good girl.”

"Madara,” she said, her heart surging even as her hips followed Madara’s pace of their own accord.

“Remember the air keeps the car low to the ground; keep it steady so the air can press it down,” he said, blowing gently behind her ear and relishing in her shudder as she sank down against him. He let out a small groan of appreciation and Sakura’s stomach clenched, her insides pulsing for that which it lacked.

The pit lane approached, leading to the exit.

“Almost there,” Sakura gasped, feeling Madara’s fingers trailing up her arms and sweeping down first her cardigan, then the spaghetti straps of her dress. He leaned back just enough to gain room for his fingers to reach in and undo the top clasp of her dress. Sakura shivered as cool air snaked inside before Madara closed the distance between them again.

“Steady,” he murmured, rocking into the crevasse of her backside. 

“So close,” she moaned, her slippery hands sliding on the wheel as she pulled off into the pit lane and down towards the entrance. She rolled over the chicane but barely felt it as the car continued on, as Madara continued on and on and—

She gasped as she felt her breasts exposed to the cool night air that flowed in through the windows; Madara gave a final tug and popped them free of the dress’ fabric.

She arched her back again with a wanton sigh when he cupped her.

“Pull over,” he ordered with a thick voice, his hands leaving her for a moment. She heard the crinkle of a wrapper and pulled over to the side, flicking the paddle on the wheel to neutral. 

Grateful to let the control of the car go, Sakura lifted her hips and rolled her panties down to her ankles as Madara flexed beneath her, the crinkling noise replaced with the sound of latex sheathing him.

“Come here.” He grabbed her and brought her down upon him. “Take me inside you,” he commanded, and Sakura felt herself clenching at the pure  _ authority  _ in his voice.

Bracing herself on his powerful thighs, she rolled her hips back and teased his tip, once, twice, three times until he hissed in frustration; with relief she settled slowly down, feeling him enter her a little at a time as she controlled her descent onto his stiff member. She bit back a smile as she felt the air whoosh out of him as she rhythmically clenched around him on her way down.

“Minx,” he breathed, allowing her a moment to adjust to his sizeable girth. All Sakura could manage was a moan as she felt him pulse inside her.

“You are not going to go home unsatisfied,” he promised, one hand reaching forward to tease the skin of her inner thighs.

“What are you going to do about it?”

His reply was a naughty chuckle that sent shivers down her spine and throughout her body, leaving tingles in their wake. Excitement built inside her as she felt him begin to move, reaching further inside her than she’d ever been touched before. 

She closed her eyes as already the pressure was building, faster than it ever had before.

With a gentle, firm hand against her back he tilted Sakura forward over the wheel, and the new angle did her in.

With a small cry of his name she let go, trembling under his ministrations.

“Oh Sakura,” he said, smirking into the downy skin of her exposed shoulder. “We’ve only just begun…”

* * *

The next day, Madara turned over in his bed and reached across the warm, naked woman beside him to answer his phone with a happy sigh.

“Hn?”

“Good morning, Madara,” sang Mikoto sweetly. “Sasuke’s quite anxious and would like to know if his friend Sakura made it home alright last night. He said she hasn’t answered her phone yet and he’s called her several times.”

_ “Twenty-two times! Tell him twenty-two times!” _ Madara heard Sasuke pipe up from beside Mikoto.

Madara could practically feel his sister rolling her eyes at her son’s antics.

“Tell him to call her once more,” advised Madara as Sakura stirred and reached for him in her sleepy daze. He obliged her and snuggled closer, clutching her closer as she sighed happily on his shoulder. Her little hand clutched at the tendrils of his hair and she settled once more.

“Madara,” warned Mikoto suspiciously.

“Do it,” smirked Madara lazily.

He heard her sigh before telling Sasuke to try Sakura one last time.

Madara’s grin was positively shit-eating as he reached for Sakura’s phone and answered it before it woke her.

“Hello Sasuke,” he said.

Oh, he could  _ hear  _ Sasuke swallow.

“If you hurt her—”

Madara let out a low huff. “Hardly. She is, however, quite… relaxed,” he said, as Sakura’s slender leg brushed against his, nudging his burgeoning erection with her knee as she did so. He glanced down at her to see her tiny smirk and half-lidded eyes. 

He grinned down at her.

“Well, duty calls. Tell your mother I send my love,” he said, holding Sakura’s gaze as he shifted the phones both to one hand.

“Oy, wait a second,” began Sasuke.

“Madara, be a gentleman, please,” sighed Mikoto.

“No promises. Ladies’ choice,” murmured Madara as Sakura’s eyes focused on his lips. He licked his lips and lifted the phones to his mouth. “Goodbye. Don’t call back for a few… hours,” he decided, turning off both phones.

He set them on the bedside table before arching a brow at Sakura.

“I lost track of whose turn it was,” she said, running her fingers down his chiseled abdomen to grasp him.

“As a gentleman, I’m happy to kneel first,” he said, curling his body over hers before lifting her knees over his shoulders and kissing down her tummy to her curls.

Her eyes sparkled before she gasped delicately and sank her fingers into his wild hair to pull him in closer. 

“Yes!” She whined, arching her back to get closer to his mouth.

Madara was, of course, a gentleman; he always made sure his lady came first.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
